


And The Wall It Was Hung Upon

by Anonymous



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Competition, First Meetings, Gen, Missing Scene, craftsmanship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28457700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The Lion thinks all pieces crafted by the Gorgon are for wartime use. Ferrus takes this as a challenge.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: PB Anon Meme - 2020





	And The Wall It Was Hung Upon

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the throwaway line from Lion re: Ferrus in his 2020 novella:  
>  _The Lion smiled. Had Duriel not known his lord well, he might have missed it. "Ferrus will always choose to be the exception, my son."_

The Lion arrived on his flagship in time to see a stand-down between his sons and those of the Iron Tenth. Humours were high, blades were drawn, and it was clear from the stances of the assembled marines that blood was on the verge of being spilled.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, coming to a halt with his retinue of Companions.

Alajos was quick to sheathe his blade. His counterpart in the Iron Tenth was slower, and the assembled cohorts slower still.

"My lord," Alajos said, lowering himself to one knee.

"Lord Jonson of Fair Caliban," the First Captain of the Tenth added, making the aquila in greeting.

"Enough of this," the Lion said, as all warriors in earshot snapped to attention. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked again.

"Your brother," Alajos began.

"Lord Manus," the man of the Tenth cut in, "Wanted to speak with you."

The Lion narrowed his eyes. "Where is he now?"

"We tried to stop him," Corswain, Alajos' second protested. He was silenced with a wave of his superior's hand.

"He entered your reclusiam, my lord," Alajos said, bowing his head. "I am ashamed to say I could not stop him."

"So be it," the Lion said, striding forward without sparing either side a second glance. The twin doors slid back in his presence, swinging shut the second he stepped through them. He was certain the mechanism, like all ingresses in his personal chambers, had been locked to his own genes.

In the two years since his discovery, he had met with three of the ten brothers that had been discovered before him and heard (and read) a great deal of the remaining seven. Though Ferrus Manus' physical peculiarities were known to him, to see the man in the flesh was a different beast. He was at once entirely human, as human as the Lion or the Emperor in any case, yet his arms and his eyes gave off the impression that he was, at the same time, something else. Something _more_.

"You've a fine collection," Ferrus said, standing before the Lion's fledgling assemblage of Calibanite arms.

"It is modest still," the Lion answered.

He watched as his brother reached out with one silver hand. To watch the limb move unattended was a marvel in itself. For a moment, Lion wondered whether its texture was that of metal or flesh, or something in between. In any case, Ferrus reached out and ran his fingertip along the edge of a two-handed polearm, a replica of the weapon that had felled the Beast of Kentoel. The sharpness of the weapon should have pierced his skin (if it were skin) or scraped against his limb (if it were metal. The Lion watched on as the blade did neither and instead appeared to curl into his brother's touch.

"You made this," Ferrus said, pulling his hand back.

"I did."

"The craftsmanship is fine."

"Thank you."

"I heard Father's given you a blade?" Ferrus asked, turning towards the Lion. His eyes were as impossible a feat as his hands; despite having known the intensity of the Emperor's gaze, Ferrus' silvery eyes were unsettling in their own way.

"Yes," the Lion said, irritated at his own discomfort. Ferrus was effectively a younger brother, as all his brothers were.

"Hm," Ferrus turned back to the display of weaponry. "Nonetheless, I should like to present you with a piece. One that might be hung in this very gallery."

He turned to the Lion with hooded eyes. "What say you, Lion of the Forest?"

The Lion shrugged. "This is a hall of affectations. Any product of your craftsmanship would be better suited for the battlefield."

"Is that so."

"I would welcome proof to the contrary."

Ferrus smiled. The motion was a thinning of the lips followed by an upturned quirk that lasted a fraction of a second. The Lion, who had considered himself a superlative craftsman in his own right, was filled with the discomfitting certainty that he would not be able to wrest even a draw from the other, not where the art of the forge was concerned.

"You've a forge on-board?" the Lord of the Tenth asked.

"Yes."

"Good." He walked out, making it clear the Lion was to follow.

"Wait," the Lion said.

The Gorgon paused in surprise. "What?"

"I cannot match your craftsmanship."

Ferrus gave another millisecond-long smile. "Few can." He paused and then frowned. "Did you think I was challenging you to a competition?"

The Lion held his peace.

"Well I wasn't," his brother reassured him. "Perhaps if you've the time or the inclination afterwards we might spar aboard my flagship, but I would like to gift you something of my creation. Something more suited to a gallery than a battlefield."

And so the Lion found himself seated in the front row of his own forge, surrounded by a gaggle (the same gaggle, he suspected) of Astartes from both Legions. Though he knew of his brother's ability to shape metal in the absence of heat, to see the talent in practice was something else.

Ferrus worked fast. Insultingly fast, in fact. He was done in under an hour, merrily lifting a slab of metal larger than a Rhino from the cooling station.

"Here it is," he proclaimed, setting it before the Lion. "Suitably awe-struck, are you?" he asked.

The Lion stared at it. It looked like a torture rack fit for a giant.

"What is it?" he asked at last.

Ferrus tilted his head in a show of surprise. "Why it's a vertical arming rack," he answered, "To better display the pieces of your collection."

"I see," the Lion said. And he did. Indeed, the little hooks and slots that previously appeared as blemishes were now clearly made with the current pieces of his collection in-mind. Naturally Ferrus had committed the sight to memory and translated it flawlessly into the piece before him.

"Well?" Ferrus asked, lightly tapping its side, "Still tempted to bring it to your next fight?"

"No."

"Then consider this proof to the contrary," Ferrus said. And with that, he passed the vertical arming rack over to the Lion, who struggled despite himself under the gift's hefty weight. His Companions rushed to his side though they too struggled under the piece's bulk.

"Wait!" the Lion protested, as Ferrus ordered his men to leave.

"What?" Ferrus asked.

"What of our spar?" the Lion demanded.

"Oh." Ferrus paused, contemplating, only for his First Captain to cough pointedly. "It'll have to be next time unfortunately. We were supposed to be at Galadon two weeks ago, but I insisted on a detour."

Having nothing to say in response, the Lion said nothing. And so he watched on in silence his brother made a hasty yet perfectly-choreographed retreat from the forge.

"My lord?" Alajos asked after a squadron of servitors had been commissioned to lift the weight off their collective shoulders. "The head serf asks where you'd like to put this... gift."

The Lion sighed. It was a magnificent piece, even if it had no place on a battlefield.

"Bring it inside the reclusiam," he ordered, "And have the weapons in my personal collection transferred onto it."

"Yes, lord."

In the ensuing years, it was clear the vertical arming rack had taken on a mind of its own. Though every weapon in Lion's collection had fit perfectly in the beginning, it somehow grew the necessary amount of slots or clasps or hooks, even rearranging the presently-assembled pieces when the need arose. It thus proved to be an essential element of the gallery, though the Lion could never quite dissociate the feeling of defeat from the sight of it. Yet it remained a useful gift from a useful brother, even if it had no place on a battlefield.


End file.
